


The Yankee and The Host

by VampireHydeFTW



Category: GacktJOB
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 16:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13298406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireHydeFTW/pseuds/VampireHydeFTW
Summary: They lived two very different lives and appeared to be so very different to anyone who might stop and look but that didn't mean they weren't alike, didn't mean they couldn't find love.





	The Yankee and The Host

            “I haven't seen him for a while.” You commented, as he stared down the street at the beautiful man who stood in the rain, holding a black umbrella that did nothing to protect his designer suit from getting wet. Everything about him was dark, from his jet-black hair to his polished black dress shoes, making him look almost dangerous, especially as all that black just drew your attention to his pale skin that lacked almost all of its Japanese colouring. Still the man was Japanese, despite his attempts to look otherwise, those blue contact lenses weren’t fooling anyone.

            “Just means he must be good at his job.” You's friend Kenzaki commented unimpressed, not at all amused by the way the rain had flattened his red and blond spiked hair. He was a Yankee like You and had no interest in the men who worked in the local host clubs.

            “I bet he is,” You agreed. “He's stunning.”

            “That host would only break your heart,” Kenzaki scoffed. “Seriously You! I can handle you being gay but have some self-respect! Men like him are only good at three things, looking good, drinking and lying.”

            “Well that's two good points, to one bad,” You teased, sticking out his tongue though he knew his friend was right. Hosts were professional liars, practised at the art of seduction and he'd be a fool to trust him. It wasn't like he was even sure the man would be interested, working at one of the clubs that catered to both women and gay men couldn't be considered proof he was bi, though it did suggest it.

            “He's so fake,” Kenzaki scoffed. “Have you seen his name on the posters and billboards?”

            “Gackt,” You replied. “Could come from Gakuto? That's a real name.”

            “It could but most likely his name is something like Baka,” Kenzaki replied. “Now come on, let's get out of this rain.”

            “I bet he wants to get dry,” You realised. “But he has to wait for a client to bring back to the club.”

            “You don't want to do that!” Kenzaki complained but You simply waved goodbye and hurried down the street to rescue his damsel from the terrible weather. Even more annoyed than ever, Kenzaki hurried home cursing You's stupidity over and over again.

 

            Gackt had seen the Yankees staring at him before and was prepared for trouble but to his surprise the shorter one left leaving his friend alone. Well unless he was getting backup it meant the fight wasn't going to happen today, though it was bound to happen sooner or later. He'd clearly caught the gang’s attention. Well whatever they wanted they'd struggle to take it from him and proudly he straightened his back prepared for whatever challenge or abuse this man was going to throw his way.

            “You're Gackt right?” You asked, doing his best not to show just how nervous he was. Gackt looked like a celebrity, someone who didn't belong on the streets and should be inaccessible in real life. To talk to a man like this was mind blowing and he knew he was being incredibly cocky to think he even had a chance with this man but like his mother always said, if you don't try then you don't know.

            “That's right.” Gackt agreed coldly, despite the fact he was supposed to be getting a new client for the club right now. Not that it mattered, it was clear this man wasn't rich and pretty damn obvious that he was only here to cause trouble.

            “If you want to go back to the club and out of this storm, I'll come with you,” You offered catching Gackt so off guard he couldn't even respond. “I mean you can't like standing here in the rain.”

            “It's my job.” Gackt replied, as if he didn't care, though he wanted nothing more than to get back into the warmth and dry himself off.

            “To find a client,” You agreed. “Which you have, so let's go.”

            “Oh, I get it. You've got kicked out of your apartment,” Gackt realised. “Well I'm sorry but you can't spend the night in the club.”

            “Excuse me!” You exclaimed, growing angry and grabbing hold of Gackt's tie. “How dare you suggest I can't afford to keep a roof over my head!”

            “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you street rats were such good thieves that money wasn't a problem.” Gackt apologised, forcing You to release his hold as he spoke and making a show off straightening out his clothes.  As if he'd just been in contact with some kind of rodent carrying a deadly disease.

            “Do you want a punch in the face?” You demanded. “Here I was trying to help you out and all you give me is abuse!”

            “Why would I want help from a child like you?” Gackt snarled, though if anything he looked younger than You. “I can make my own way.”

            “Fine. Make your own way into that puddle.” You snapped, pushing Gackt hard enough that he fell into a large puddle that had formed by the side of the road. Feeling smug he turned and walked away, though he really did wish this encounter had gone better than it had.

            “Fuck you!” Gackt screamed after You, making the Yankee smile, at least his actions had revealed the real man beneath the perfect clothes and persona of aristocracy.

            “If only you would.” You muttered, oblivious to the fact Gackt was only a meter behind him, his footsteps masked by the heavy rain as he had hurried to catch up and return the favour You had just given him.

            “What did you say?” Gackt demanded, sure he must have misheard You's comment.

            “I said 'If only you could',” You informed Gackt, turning around to face the host who was now fully drenched and covered in specks of mud. “Are you even strong enough to dominate a woman, or do you just lay there scared and confused?”

            “I'm strong,” Gackt snapped. “But it wouldn't matter, both men and women beg for a turn in my bed.”

            “Beg?” You repeated. “I think the word you're after is 'pay'. A man like you doesn't even understand the concept of pride!”

            “I'd punch you in the face but you're too disgusting too touch.” Gackt sneered.

            “Is that so?” You asked, grabbing hold of Gackt's hand. “So even this creeps you out?”

            “Something like that.” Gackt agreed, sending his foot straight into You's side in a powerful kick that should have brought him down but only served to hurt the blond. Anger flared within both men but it was You who reacted first, hitting Gackt in the chest in retaliation before dodging the leg that swung over where his head had just been. It was an impressive kick and You had no choice but to fall into a defensive pose, waiting for Gackt's next assault. It came fast and he countered not expecting his kick to miss and finding himself caught off guard when it did. Gritting his teeth against the pain of the blow Gackt had just landed, he turned up his game, managing to counter and defend but never once landing a punch despite his intensive martial arts training. Gackt was just better than him, faster, stronger and more experienced. He left You feeling like a white belt again, though any one of Gackt's friends would have told him he was doing incredibly well just to keep up.

            “You're good.” You complimented, as they circled each other, both tired now and breathing heavily, despite the fight being a long way from settled.

            “You're keeping up.” Gackt reluctantly admitted, finding his opening and swiping a kick at You's ankle, causing the other to lose his balance and fall as the second kick connected with his stomach. Recovering fast You rolled backwards and was on his feet in an instant, ready to return the assault though it seemed Gackt had lost his anger now and had no intention of continuing the fight.

            “Are you running away?” You snarled as Gackt turned and began to walk away.

            “I'm feeling generous, we'll leave this as a draw.” Gackt informed You, unaware that his cocky attitude was only keeping You's anger alight. Once again, the rain served as a sound barrier giving You chance to catch up and grab hold of Gackt's long hair, that until the fight had been tied up neatly with just a fringe framing his face. Now it was a mess with loose strands everywhere, soaked through and crying out to be brushed. Everything about Gackt was a mess now but still all You could see was the picture perfect man he'd been admiring for so long.

            “Don't you dare walk away from me!” You snarled, yanking hard on Gackt's hair before letting go, expecting retaliation.

            “Well I suppose a looser like you can't handle a draw,” Gackt commented unimpressed. “Too much like a win for a man who's used to being beaten down?”

            “Too much like a loss for a man who always wins.” You corrected, growing increasingly frustrated as Gackt laughed as he walked away. Grabbing a stone You raised it to throw after the arrogant host before sighing and letting it fall to the floor by his feet. Perhaps it was best to leave things like this? Gackt was doing him a favour, he never would have defeated him, and though this only served to make him angrier common sense, and the bad weather, both dictated he just gave up and went home.

            “Arrogant bastard,” You muttered under his breath. “I'd cut his face open with glass, if it wasn't a shame to destroy such beauty.”

 

            “Gackt, I'm locking up now.” The manager of the host club called out, surprised that the other was resting on one of the bench seats. Sure it was just after eight in the morning and he'd drank a large amount of alcohol but Gackt could usually take it fine. He was normally one of the few still on his feet at the end of the night, helping the more intoxicated hosts into taxis or helping the manager with whatever chores needed doing.

            “OK.” Gackt got out, pulling himself too his feet and staggering a little as he made his way to the door. He didn't feel well at all and though the alcohol was partly to blame, he couldn't help but curse the Yankee who had made him fight in the rain the other night. He was still sore and now he was sure he was coming down with a cold.

            “Are you all right?” The manager worried, as he watched Gackt cling to the hand rail as he walked down the stairs.

            “I think I'm sick.” Gackt complained.

            “I've heard that one before,” the manager scolded. “Even you have a limit to how much you can drink.”

            “I'm not drunk.” Gackt said, though he was and they both knew it.

            “Right sure, shall I help you to a taxi?” The manager asked.

            “No, I'm fine.” Gackt replied, coughing as he headed down the stairs, feeling light headed and just a little bit dizzy. He was sick, he had to be but he knew the manager wouldn't believe him until after he had sobered up, so he did his best to make his way down the street oblivious to anything but the pavement in front of him. He made his way to the nearest taxi stand, knowing he was in no fit state to make his own way home.

            A noise like thunder filled the street and Gackt glanced up to see the twelve motorbikes fly past. weaving between the cars without a care. Disgusted with such childish antics, and just a little jealous after fear stole his ability to ride a bike himself, Gackt shook his head, clinging to a lamp post as the whole world spun out of control. Perhaps he should have accepted the manager’s offer of help? Well it was too late now, though he really didn't feel well. Sleepily he rested his head against the lamp post, this time oblivious to everything as he felt his consciousness begin to slip away.

 

            As You road down the street on his bike, he saw a familiar face that caught his attention. Gackt looked so crazily drunk that You could barely believe he was the same well-groomed and perfectly presented host from the night before. Well it served him right for being such a jerk the other day and You didn't even think about stopping until after he saw Gackt fall against the lamp post. Even then he continued to drive for a good distance before he almost reluctantly waved his friends goodbye and turned his bike around to go back the way he had just come. Behind him a truck blared it's horn but You barely noticed, unable to think about anything but the man in trouble. It wasn't like he cared for Gackt, in fact right now he seriously disliked him, but he couldn't just do nothing when someone was in trouble.

            “Somebody drank too much?” You teased, as he pulled up his bike beside Gackt, realising when the other didn't respond that he wasn't even conscious. Alarmed You got off his bike, throwing his helmet over the handle bars, and helped Gackt into a sitting position against the lamp post. He was just reaching for his phone to call an ambulance when the other’s eyes fluttered open, staring at You for a good few moments before he even recognised who he was.

            “It's you.” Gackt muttered, sounding rather delirious, though he was at least conscious now.

            “You passed out,” You commented worried. “You shouldn't drink so much.”

            “I'm ill.” Gackt corrected, dragging himself back to his feet, ignoring everyone except the blond who was staring at him with a worried expression as he clutched his phone, finger poised over the 9 key wondering if he should finish the 119 call for help.

            “If you're ill I should call for an ambulance.” You commented, still hesitating out of his belief that Gackt was just drunk.

            “I have a cold, or something,” Gackt commented. “You pushed me into that puddle, so it's your fault.”

            “If it is a cold, or fever.” You reluctantly agreed, deciding to put his phone away for now. “What if I take you home? I won't apologise for the fight because that was your fault.”

            “Are you bruised too?” Gackt asked curious and not wanting to be the only one who had suffered in their fight.

            “Yes,” You replied. “You know how to hurt a man.”

            “I'll accept that lift then.” Gackt replied, though it was now You's turn to doubt if he wanted to. In the end it was his inability to do nothing when someone needed help, that had him helping Gackt onto his bike and taking him home.

 

            “So how are you going to pay for your ride?” You joked, as he parked his bike in the underground garage beneath the apartment building where Gackt lived.

            “I...” Gackt began, before smiling cockily. He'd sobered up somewhat on the ride home and though he still felt weak and a bit light headed he was able to function once more. “I'll give you what you want.”

            “Which is?” You demanded but it was soon obvious as Gackt slid his hand under You's shirt running his fingers over the yankee's abs as he leant closer and placed his lips over the blonde’s. For a second You hesitated but his resistance didn't last long, he did want this and though it hadn't been his aim he couldn't lie and say the thought hadn't crossed his mind. Gackt seemed to be aware of what he was doing, which was showing consent, right? It had to be consent, Gackt had started this!

            “You're a bad man.” You scolded, as he pushed Gackt against the wall and began to rip away the smaller man's belt. He hadn't noticed just how thin Gackt was before, like a trig ready to snap, though he wasn't anorexic in the slightest. His body seemed lean and strong, like a trained fighting machine, which made sense because it had been obvious the other night he was a trained martial artist.

            “Me?” Gackt asked, looking so innocent that You couldn't help himself, forcing his body against Gackt's he ground there crotches together with such force it was almost painful.

            “Moan my name.” You ordered.

            “Yankee.” Gackt groaned instantly.

            “My name!” You ordered, slamming his hips forward as he trapped Gackt against the wall.

            “I don't know it,” Gackt admitted. “Punish me for it?”

            “You're keen,” You commented surprised. “I thought you hated me.”

            “Hate the guy who managed to hurt me?” Gackt asked. “That was the most thrilling fight I've had for a long time.”

            “You're delirious.” You commented.

            “I am,” Gackt agreed. “I'm letting you go on top and I don't even know your name.”

            “It's Yankee.” You replied with a teasing smile.

 

            You allowed himself to be pushed backwards, falling into the soft sheets of Gackt's bed. This would be their fifth time together, though nothing that could be considered a normal healthy relationship existed between them. They mocked each other, teased each other, called each other names. They fought and cursed each other but then, like a coin deciding to land on tails for a change, they'd make love and it would be the best, most passionate, experience of their young lives. On those days it was normally a small act of kindness that tipped the scales and allowed a mutual understanding to form between the two men. They were hot tempered, passionate and as stubborn as hell but beneath all that, and the shields they used to defend themselves, they were two similar souls whose happiness depended on the happiness of those around them. When this side was revealed, that was when the two men knew that what they were doing was right and the most logical thing in the world.

            “Tell me your real name.” Gackt ordered, as he pinned You down, rubbing their naked crotches together loving the way You's eyes would flutter shut in pleasure as their bodies moved.

            “Yankee.” You gasped out as he pushed his hips upwards wanting, no needing, more.

            “Yankees don't get what they want,” Gackt warned. “Tell me your name.”

            “Fuck me!” You ordered, trying to push Gackt off but unable to find the strength to do so.

            “Tell me!” Gackt urged, freezing. “Seriously I want to know.”

            “Tell me yours first,” You compromised. “Your real name.”

            “Gakuto.” Came the answer.

            “Really?” You asked, not sure if he should believe his partner or not.

            “Maybe,” Gackt replied. “Your turn.”

            “You.” He found himself relenting, rewarded for his efforts seconds later as he felt Gackt's length sliding deep inside him. He groaned as he was filled, stretched to his limits but able to take it as it had been only an hour earlier when they'd gone for round four, an uncomfortable and quick session that had done nothing to satisfy their mutual desire for pleasure.

            “We should have a date,” Gackt got out. “A real one, I'm sick of this pseudo relationship.”

            “Pseudo?” You repeated, wishing Gackt wouldn't constantly belittle him with his greater use of language, not everyone sat and read a dictionary when they got bored!

            “I want something real, more than pleasure and pain,” Gackt admitted. “I want You.”

            “I...” You muttered, instantly losing the thought as he felt Gackt begin to pound into him harder and fast, clearly the host didn't want to hear his answer, perhaps fearing a rejection, and was doing a very good job at making You forget the question. With hands buried in the sheets You allowed himself just to feel, used to the relationship that they had, though later, when he was calm and rational once more, he would give Gackt the answer he wanted. How could two souls, so very much alike, yet so very different, ever exist apart now they had found each other? Like two jigsaw pieces finally clicked into their proper place, they were whole. No matter what others might say, no matter how much they might fight, it didn't matter because the passion between them was something that could never be denied.


End file.
